


The Stranger

by baroque_mongoose



Category: Girl Genius
Genre: Gen, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-09 02:05:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3232211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baroque_mongoose/pseuds/baroque_mongoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mr Wooster meets a man who is down on his luck, and decides to help him; following this, events take a somewhat unexpected turn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Stranger

A good spy is supposed to notice things, even when technically off duty; and that, no doubt, explains why I noticed the man sitting quietly in the corner of the bar.

I was still feeling rather guilty about being in there at all, but the ladies had put their foot down in concert. It had originally been Violetta's idea, and her exact words had been, “Oh, for goodness' sake, Wooster, go and unwind. Get drunk or something! We can look after Agatha for the evening.” Since both Zeetha and Lady Heterodyne had immediately backed her up, I had given in, somewhat reluctantly, but, I hope, with at least reasonable grace. Of course, I had not the slightest intention of actually getting drunk. I need to keep my wits about me at all times. Still, the idea was not a bad one in moderation. I _was_ , as Zeetha colourfully put it, under more tension than Mamma Gkika's corset, and a drink would help.

It was a rougher place than I would normally choose to drink in; people are people, regardless of social standing, but nonetheless a well-dressed young man in a rough tavern tends to attract unwelcome attention, and I was not in the mood for that. However, it was the nearest place, and since there was always the possibility that I might have to hurry back to the others, I could not afford to be fussy. I walked up to the bar, ordered a pint of the local brew, and it was just as I paid for it that I noticed the man in the corner.

I am still not sure what it was about him that caught my attention. He was sitting on his own at a small table, gazing into a shot glass. He was probably some five to ten years older than I, and a few shades darker, with large, mild brown eyes.

The shot glass was empty. He was making no move to get a refill. Indeed, he seemed to be wondering exactly what to do next.

On an impulse, I picked up my drink and walked over to him. “You look a little lost,” I observed. “Can I get you another drink?”

He looked up, surprised. “That's very kind of you, sir. Thank you. But I couldn't possibly take you up on your offer. I have no money left, so I can't reciprocate in kind.”

“All the more reason why I should buy you a drink, then,” I said. “What will it be?”

“Well... if you insist. Thank you so much. I should like vodka, please.”

I put my drink down on the table, took his glass, returned to the bar, and came back in a few minutes with a double shot of vodka. “You're very kind,” he said. “Would you care to join me?”

I sat down. “Thank you. I should introduce myself; my name is Ardsley Wooster.”

“Mine is Ravinder Lall,” he replied.

“Why,” I said, “we could be related! My mother's maiden name was Lall.”

He smiled. “It is a very common name in northern India. Where is your mother from?”

“She was born in Lucknow; but she was only half Indian.”

“Ah, then we are probably not related. I am from Bhubaneswar, nowhere near.”

“And I fear you are down on your luck,” I said.

He sighed. “Indeed I am, Mr Wooster. In fact, since you have been so kind, I shall be very honest with you. I came in here to drink as much alcohol as I could afford, and then go and lie down outside in the snow. The alcohol, you understand, increases the blood flow to the surface capillaries, as well as dulling the senses. It will be a quick, and not too unpleasant, means of suicide.”

I made a face. “I should counsel you against doing that, Mr Lall. Since you have been so honest, I shall return the favour; I have stared that particular temptation in the face too many times myself.”

“And what stops you?” asked Mr Lall curiously.

I shrugged. “There is always someone who needs my help. Even when I feel I am next to useless, there is always something that reminds me of someone, somewhere, who is better off with my help than with none at all.”

“That is very good, and I am glad you have it; but I do not,” replied Mr Lall. “I am on my own.”

“What, completely?” I asked.

He sighed. “Mr Wooster, until earlier today, I was a spy. Never mind whose; it hardly matters now. I was caught, and I successfully escaped, but my cover is, naturally, blown. Consequently, I have been disowned by my authorities. I have no identification papers, no source of income, nowhere to live. In such a situation, death seems not only attractive, but logical.”

I shuddered inwardly. I knew there was a great deal he was still not telling me; having one's cover blown is the sort of thing that annoys one's authorities, but they do not normally go to such lengths as a result. Something else must have gone badly wrong for him. I did not try to guess what that might be, as there were too many possibilities. A spy lives on a knife edge, as I know only too well.

“The identification papers... may not be such a problem as you think,” I said, quietly. “And, once you have those, you should be able to get a job without questions being asked. You are clearly well educated.”

He gave me an odd look. “You can get me a set of identification papers?”

I nodded, and gave him a wry smile. “Never mind whose spy _I_ am. That doesn't matter, either.”

He smiled back. “You know, the overwhelming probability is that we are technically enemies.”

“I know,” I said. “I really don't care. Suicide's a far bigger enemy than you could possibly be.”

He bowed his head. “You don't know how grateful I am to you, Mr Wooster.”

“You might want to wait till I've delivered the goods,” I replied. “Not that that should be a problem.” I reached into my pocket. “Here. Take this. It should get you a room for tonight and a few good meals. I'd give you more, but I didn't bring a lot out with me. Can you be outside here at dawn tomorrow? I'm sorry about the early start, but I'm with some other people and we're likely to be moving on after breakfast.”

“Thank you. Yes – yes, I can do that.”

“Good.” I finished my drink. “And now, much as I'd like to stay and talk, I'm afraid I'm going to have to leave you. I have wheels to set in motion.”

“I quite understand,” said Mr Lall.

I was up all night, in the end. There were messages to send through unorthodox channels, which took a little walking and a lot of waiting; there were questions which had to be answered, at both ends of the chain; and finally, of course, I had to be on hand to receive the necessary paperwork in person. But finally it was done, and as the sun rose the next morning, tinting the snowfields with a blush of pink, I returned to the tavern and found Mr Lall waiting for me in the doorway, his collar pulled up around his ears.

“Good morning,” I said. “I am relieved to see you are still with us.”

“It would be a terrible thing to kill myself after you have been so kind to me,” he replied.

“Well,” I said, handing over the papers, “you are now Namdev Gupta. I'm sorry I couldn't give you a choice of name, but when a new identification is needed in a hurry, it's necessary to use a pre-prepared one... but I don't know why I'm telling you that; you must already know.”

He nodded. “Yes, yes, I understand. It is not a problem. Namdev is a very good name.” He flicked through them. “And I have had various positions as an office clerk... perfect! Thank you so much.”

I smiled. “And your previous employers will be more than happy to recommend you. You should have no trouble at all getting a new job. With a record like that, you could probably go and work for someone like Baron Wulfenbach.”

His face clouded for a brief moment, and I realised whose spy he had been. “I think,” he said, reflectively, “I would rather stay well out of the limelight for a little while.”

“Very wise,” I said, wondering what on earth he had done to earn the wrath of the Baron... no; not of the Baron, since he was still trapped in Mechanicsburg. He must have annoyed Master Gil. Well, that, unfortunately, was not so very hard to do. I felt even more sympathy for him.

“And also, well away from a certain compatriot of mine,” he added, in an undertone.

“DuPree,” I said, automatically.

“You know her?” he asked, clearly embarrassed for a moment.

“Who doesn't?” I replied.

“True. News like DuPree is apt to get round. I may as well tell you what happened, Mr Wooster. I was sent to kill someone. When it came to it, I couldn't do it.”

I was shocked, and I am not at all sure that I hid it well. Master Gil is hot-headed, but I had never thought him the type who would send an assassin after someone. Then I recalled that the Baron undoubtedly was, and an assassin may take a long time to locate their target. Besides, Master Gil had... other matters on his mind. Surely it had been the Baron who sent him.

But, in that case, why would Master Gil be so annoyed with him for failing in his mission?

“Killing is never easy,” I said, “and to do it in cold blood is even more difficult. It is because I have had to kill that I am not at peace.”

He nodded. “And that, of course, is exactly what Captain DuPree cannot understand. It was by her order that I was cast out.”

That made more sense. “I think it is a sport to her,” I replied.

He sighed. “I have been following my target for a little while now. I have had several opportunities to kill him; but when you watch someone closely, you learn something about what kind of person they are. I'm sure you know that very well.”

“I do,” I assured him.

“So, every time, I stayed my hand. I made all kinds of excuses in my reports about how the timing was not right, but the simple truth was that I was reluctant to kill a good man. I could tell that Captain DuPree was growing impatient, and so I eventually decided that I would fake his death. Unfortunately, before I could do that, I had the worst possible piece of luck: I walked straight into someone who recognised me. She was on Castle Wulfenbach for a little while, and she knew very well who I was. She worked, as it turned out, for the Sturmvoraus family.”

I wondered who on earth that could have been. I had not been aware of any Sturmvoraus spy on Castle Wulfenbach; either she had arrived after my time, or else she was exceedingly good.

“So,” Mr Lall continued, “you may find it useful to know that they have a house in this town with a very secure cellar. I was taken there for interrogation. I escaped by convincing them I needed medical attention; but, of course, I had to report being captured, and Captain DuPree lost what was left of her patience.”

“Which, as I understand it, has never been very great,” I observed.

“No, indeed,” he replied.

“Might I ask you one question?” I said. “Did the Baron himself send you out to kill this man, or was it someone else?”

“It was the Baron,” replied Mr Lall. “It has taken me a very long time to find my target, and that, of course, did nothing to improve Captain DuPree's temper. I believe she has a personal grudge against him.”

“She has a personal grudge against many people,” I said, neutrally. I had been engaging in a process of deductive reasoning, and everything he said was confirming my conclusions.

“Yes; and I think it would be prudent if I travelled some distance before looking for a new job. I do not want her to find me here.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I note that you are not asking me to help you with that.”

“I couldn't possibly. It would involve a great deal of trouble and bureaucracy, it would certainly not be quick, and it would put you and your companions at additional risk.”

“Ah, so you do know exactly who I am, and I am right,” I said. “I am the person you were sent to kill. Yes?”

He nodded. “Yes.” There was really nothing he could add to that.

“Don't look so guilty. You refused to kill me, and that took a great deal of courage, especially with Captain DuPree breathing down your neck, albeit from a distance,” I said. “Believe me, I would offer to get you safely to England if I could, but, since you already know what I am doing, I think you will understand when I have to tell you that the Lady Heterodyne comes first.”

“Of course. You have your duty to do, and you are doing it.” He shot me a glance. “Would you still have helped me, even if you had known all along?”

“I would. I know very well that a spy is not his own master. You have no grudge against me. You were merely sent to implement other people's.”

“Yes,” he said. “We are pawns, you and I; and it is always the pawns that are knocked off the board first.”

“Do you have anything on you which would identify you to Captain DuPree?” I asked, thoughtfully.

He stared at me. “Yes. I have this.” With some difficulty, he pulled off the large onyx signet ring he wore on his index finger. It was a cheap thing, with the plate visibly scuffed in one or two places, but he must have worn it night and day for a long time.

“Is it of great sentimental value? Could you bear to part with it?” I asked.

He smiled suddenly. “Not of such sentimental value as my life is. Take it. And thank you yet again.”

I smiled back as I slipped it into my waistcoat pocket. “Ah, we understand each other. Good luck, Mr... Gupta. I admit I rather envy you your new life.”

“If we ever meet again,” he said, “I shall do everything in my power to pay my debt to you.”

I shrugged. “You did spare my life,” I reminded him.

Later that day, I put the ring in an envelope, wrote a short letter to go with it, and directed it to Captain Bangladesh DuPree at Mechanicsburg. I regret to say that I lied through my teeth. The letter stated that I had shot the owner of the ring, who had been trying to kill me at the time, and dumped his body into the Rhine; and that I was returning the ring as an incentive not to send any further assassins after me. Once that was in the post, I had a most enjoyable few minutes picturing the expression on her face when she read the letter. I am about as fond of the Captain as she is of me, with the sole exception that I am not actually out to kill her.

Over breakfast, I warned the others. “We need to move far and fast today,” I said. “Captain DuPree knows where we are, and therefore, naturally, so does Master Gil. The Baron sent an assassin after me under DuPree's command; he's been trailing us for a few days, I think.”

“You sound remarkably calm about that,” Lady Heterodyne observed. “I know you're used to people trying to kill you, but...”

“Yeah,” said Zeetha. “You actually sound much calmer than you did last night. Why is it you're always much more tense when you're not in immediate danger?”

“Because when he's not in immediate danger, he's got time to think,” replied Violetta. I had to admit, she was quite correct.

“So what did you do with the assassin?” asked Zeetha, curiously.

“I... saw to him,” I replied, obliquely. “Let's just say he's not a threat now.”

Zeetha grinned. “Heh. Well, listen, Wooster, if you get DuPree herself after you, let me know, will you? I'd enjoy taking her on.”

“And you'd be welcome to do so,” I replied. I am well aware of my own limits. “Thankfully, she is not here at the moment. I am not entirely sure where she is, but I sent the assassin's ring back to her in Mechanicsburg. She is bound to return there eventually.”

“You did what? That's kind of stylish,” said Violetta. “But, yes, you're right – if Gil knows where we are, we'd better find somewhere else to be, and quickly.”

“Yeah,” said Lady Heterodyne, ruefully. “Shame about that.”

“You still look surprisingly calm,” Violetta observed. “I mean... I know you. And you usually get extra jumpy every time Gil comes anywhere near being involved in the equation. Not that I blame you for that, after the way he went off at you, but... what on earth did you take last night? Opium?”

“Perish the thought,” I said. “I can't afford the loss of concentration. No, I merely had a very pleasant evening last night, and I am feeling rather more relaxed than usual as a result.”

“Oh?” asked Zeetha. “Was there a girl involved?”

“No, there was not,” I replied. Honestly. Zeetha should know by now.

No, indeed. Just as Mr Lall knew very well what I had planned for his ring, I knew equally well what he would do in return. All spies move in very similar ways, no matter who happens to be employing them. I had drawn the pursuit off him, so he would do the same thing for us. Right now, if I was any judge, he would be keeping a discreet eye on us; and very shortly after we left, an anonymous false report would go winging its way back to Master Gil to inform him that we had gone off in a totally different direction.

Pawns are usually the first to be knocked off the board; but that is only when they do not have the opportunity to collaborate.


End file.
